The Man Who Was Afraid [18]
new in it, something clearer and more comprehensible than in her fairy-tales, and something just as interesting. Something powerful and warm began to throb within his little heart, and he was drawn toward his father. Ignat, evidently, surmised his son's feelings by his eyes: he rose abruptly from his seat, seized him in his arms and pressed him firmly to his breast. And Foma embraced his neck, and, pressing his cheek to that of his father, was silent and breathed rapidly.
"My son," whispered Ignat in a dull voice, "My darling! My joy! Learn while I am alive. Alas! it is hard to live."
The child's heart trembled at this whisper; he set his teeth together, and hot tears gushed from his eyes.
Until this day Ignat had never kindled any particular feeling in his son: the boy was used to him; he was tired of looking at his enormous figure, and feared him slightly, but was at the same time aware that his father would do anything for him that he wanted. Sometimes Ignat would stay away from home a day, two, a week, or possibly the entire summer. And yet Foma did not even notice his absence, so absorbed was he by his love for Aunt Anfisa. When Ignat returned the boy was glad, but he could hardly tell whether it was his father's arrival that gladdened him or the playthings he brought with him. But now, at the sight of Ignat, the boy ran to meet him, grasped him by the hand, laughed, stared into his eyes and felt weary if he did not see him for two or three hours: His father became interesting to him, and, rousing his curiosity, he fairly developed love and respect for himself. Every time that they were together Foma begged his father:
"Papa, tell me about yourself."
.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The steamer was now going up the Volga. One suffocating night in July, when the sky was overcast with thick black clouds, and everything on the Volga was somewhat ominously calm, they reached Kazan and anchored near Uslon at the end of an enormous fleet of vessels. The clinking of the anchor chains and the shouting of the crew awakened Foma; he looked out of the window and saw, far in the distance, small lights glimmering fantastically: the water about the boat black and thick, like oil--and nothing else could be seen. The boy's heart trembled painfully and he began to listen attentively. A scarcely audible, melancholy song reached his ears--mournful and monotonous as a chant on the caravan the watchmen called to one another; the steamer hissed angrily getting up steam. And the black water of the river splashed sadly and quietly against the sides of the vessels. Staring fixedly into the darkness, until his eyes hurt, the boy discerned black piles and small lights dimly burning high above them. He knew that those were barges, but this knowledge did not calm him and his heart throbbed unevenly, and, in his imagination, terrifying dark images arose.
"O-o-o," a drawling cry came from the distance and ended like a wail.
Someone crossed the deck and went up to the side of the steamer.
"O-o-o," was heard again, but nearer this time.
"Yefim!" some one called in a low voice on the deck. "Yefimka!"
"Well?"
"Devil! Get up! Take the boat-hook."
"O-o-o," someone moaned near by, and Foma, shuddering, stepped back from the window.
The queer sound came nearer and nearer and grew in strength, sobbed and died out in the darkness. While on the deck they whispered with alarm:
"Yefimka! Get up! A guest is floating!"
"Where?" came a hasty question, then bare feet began to patter about the deck, a bustle was heard, and two boat-hooks slipped down past the boy's face and almost noiselessly plunged into the water.
"A gue-e-est!" Some began to sob near by, and a quiet, but very queer splash resounded.
The boy trembled with fright at this mournful cry, but he could not tear his hands from the window nor his eyes from the water.
"Light the lantern. You can't see anything."
"Directly."
And then a spot of dim light fell over the water. Foma saw that the water was rocking calmly, that a ripple
"My son," whispered Ignat in a dull voice, "My darling! My joy! Learn while I am alive. Alas! it is hard to live."
The child's heart trembled at this whisper; he set his teeth together, and hot tears gushed from his eyes.
Until this day Ignat had never kindled any particular feeling in his son: the boy was used to him; he was tired of looking at his enormous figure, and feared him slightly, but was at the same time aware that his father would do anything for him that he wanted. Sometimes Ignat would stay away from home a day, two, a week, or possibly the entire summer. And yet Foma did not even notice his absence, so absorbed was he by his love for Aunt Anfisa. When Ignat returned the boy was glad, but he could hardly tell whether it was his father's arrival that gladdened him or the playthings he brought with him. But now, at the sight of Ignat, the boy ran to meet him, grasped him by the hand, laughed, stared into his eyes and felt weary if he did not see him for two or three hours: His father became interesting to him, and, rousing his curiosity, he fairly developed love and respect for himself. Every time that they were together Foma begged his father:
"Papa, tell me about yourself."
.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The steamer was now going up the Volga. One suffocating night in July, when the sky was overcast with thick black clouds, and everything on the Volga was somewhat ominously calm, they reached Kazan and anchored near Uslon at the end of an enormous fleet of vessels. The clinking of the anchor chains and the shouting of the crew awakened Foma; he looked out of the window and saw, far in the distance, small lights glimmering fantastically: the water about the boat black and thick, like oil--and nothing else could be seen. The boy's heart trembled painfully and he began to listen attentively. A scarcely audible, melancholy song reached his ears--mournful and monotonous as a chant on the caravan the watchmen called to one another; the steamer hissed angrily getting up steam. And the black water of the river splashed sadly and quietly against the sides of the vessels. Staring fixedly into the darkness, until his eyes hurt, the boy discerned black piles and small lights dimly burning high above them. He knew that those were barges, but this knowledge did not calm him and his heart throbbed unevenly, and, in his imagination, terrifying dark images arose.
"O-o-o," a drawling cry came from the distance and ended like a wail.
Someone crossed the deck and went up to the side of the steamer.
"O-o-o," was heard again, but nearer this time.
"Yefim!" some one called in a low voice on the deck. "Yefimka!"
"Well?"
"Devil! Get up! Take the boat-hook."
"O-o-o," someone moaned near by, and Foma, shuddering, stepped back from the window.
The queer sound came nearer and nearer and grew in strength, sobbed and died out in the darkness. While on the deck they whispered with alarm:
"Yefimka! Get up! A guest is floating!"
"Where?" came a hasty question, then bare feet began to patter about the deck, a bustle was heard, and two boat-hooks slipped down past the boy's face and almost noiselessly plunged into the water.
"A gue-e-est!" Some began to sob near by, and a quiet, but very queer splash resounded.
The boy trembled with fright at this mournful cry, but he could not tear his hands from the window nor his eyes from the water.
"Light the lantern. You can't see anything."
"Directly."
And then a spot of dim light fell over the water. Foma saw that the water was rocking calmly, that a ripple